Thank you
by EnharmonicAngel
Summary: "And as he pictured her face as she took her last breaths in his mind, he began to realize just why Greece hated him so much." Centered around Turkey/the Ottoman Empire. No pairings. Has an OC. Rated T for violence and language. One-shot.


_**Because in every fanfic about the Ottoman Empire, he's a rapist/some crazy bastard who seems to like killing/raping chibis. Why some fangirls think it's so kawaii desu is beyond me—**_

_**Yes. Turkey feels some godsdamned remorse. What a crime from a Middle Eastern country. :I**_

_**No pairings in this one.**_

_**Yes, I used my OC, the Byzantine Empire, in here. Don't get all spazzy on me, I'm using her because Ancient Greece and the Byzantine Empire are two different things. Dammit, Himaruya—**_

_**I don't speak Turkish, so I had to use a translator for a phrase later on. Please correct me if I'm wrong. I did not, however, need a translator for the Greek. ouo**_

_**By the way, the song just below the Author's Note is Heroes by Elena Paparizou. And a kilij is a Turkish sword.**_

_**Disclaimer: I only own Byzzie.**_

* * *

_"To all the heroes, the rush of emotions,_

_in this high and low, ah-ay-ah, let's go,_

_To all the heroes, we celebrate our nations,_

_Let the whole world know! Ah-ay-ah, let's go,_

_To all the heroes."_

.-.

_The two countries were locked in combat. One of them had everything to lose if she lost._

"_Just surrender, and maybe you'll walk out alive!" he spat, blocking her sword with his, hearing the clash of steel. All around them, their soldiers were fighting, as well, invading and raiding the ancient city._

"_Not a chance," she snarled, and fought back with all her strength, knowing the consequences of losing this fight. But she was tired. It was early in the morning, a few hours past midnight, maybe, and he'd caught her by surprise._

_The Greek man ran forward, looking for his friend. "Byzantium!" he called when he saw her swing her sword up to block his attack._

_She turned her head. "Greece, go! Get somewhere safe!" she snapped. "What are you waiting for?! I'll be fine! Go!" Her attention was quickly brought back to her current battle._

_The masked man used this distraction to his advantage. He noticed that her attacks were off balance as she tried to shoo the other man away._

_For a split second, she was defenseless._

_He lunged._

_She gasped._

_Her friend yelled._

_As he yanked the steel kilij out of her chest, she collapsed to her knees. He looked into her face as she fell, seeing a myriad of emotions._

_Anger. Hatred. Fear. Death. Sadness._

_Failure._

_He grabbed Greece's wrist and yanked him away from the scene as his people conquered the once-great city of Constantinople, ignoring the Greek man's shouts of anger and grieving._

.-.

Turkey sat straight up in his bed, sweating and breathing heavily. _Dammit...Just a nightmare,_ he thought to himself. He sighed and laid back down.

He'd been having frequent nightmares about his time as the Ottoman Empire as of late, especially the ones that involved him killing another country. And he'd always woken up with the same bitter emotions.

Guilt.

Remorse.

He 'Hmph'd, shifting his position in the bed. _The bitch was going to die, anyway. And she could've surrendered, but she just _had_ to fight back,_ he thought in attempt to ease his mind.

But the more he thought about it, the more restless he grew. Was killing her really the only available option? Or was he thinking with his weapon and not his head, his heart?

And as he pictured her face as she took her last breaths in his mind, he began to realize just why Greece hated him so much.

But that was centuries ago. At this point, there was only one thing he could do.

Ignoring the fact that it was five o'clock in the morning, he got up out of his bed, reached for his phone and dialed a number. It was a few moments before he heard a 'click' and a yawn.

"...What do _you_ want? This'd better be important..." he heard the Greek man say tiredly. Turkey gave a nervous laugh.

"Ah, listen, Jerkules...Do you remember that one friend of yours?" he asked with a sigh.

"You're going to have to be more specific than that...I have a lot of friends..." Greece replied dryly. "And for the last time, Hercules was the Roman demigod...The Greek was Herakles..."

"Do you think I care?" Turkey snapped, before remembering why he called. He sighed again. "Byzantium. The Byzantine Empire."

"Ah, the one you murdered in cold blood." The man's tone had completely lost its tiredness by then, replaced by anger.

"Uh, well...Yeah. That one."

"What about her?"

Turkey gave another nervous laugh. "Yeah, well, I'm sorry. For killing her. I guess it doesn't really make a difference, but..." A sigh. "Özür dilerim. I'm sorry."

A pause.

Greece sighed, as well. "Efcharisto," he said simply before hanging up.

_What the hell? I don't speak Greek,_ the Turkish man thought in irritation as he put the phone back. _Why would he—_

"It means thank you," a female voice said behind him. He whirled around.

She was translucent. Oh, great, a ghost. Because ghosts _totally_ exist. He was seeing things, now.

She was leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed and a bored expression on her face. She wore a black cloak. Purple, green and gold robes. Brown-haired. Olive skinned. Amber-eyed.

Familiar.

It wasn't just any ghost.

"Efcharisto," she said, and vanished.

Turkey stared at where she'd just been, and thought about the meaning of what she and Greece had said. It wasn't a 'Thank you' that called for a 'You're welcome.' It was a 'Thank you' that said 'I understand.'

"Thank you," he repeated in wonder.


End file.
